


Don't Pump Without Friends

by Rhys (rhyssj)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Penis Pumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyssj/pseuds/Rhys
Summary: Inches come and go, but friends are forever.





	Don't Pump Without Friends

**Author's Note:**

> A _100 Ways_ story.

It was quite unfortunate that his friends operated under the false assumption that they were comedians. If they had bothered to learn anything in the ten years they’d been together, it should have been that only Chris was allowed to be funny and the others, only as his discretion. 

For example: the communal gift Chris received on his 34th birthday. 

"Wow, _thanks_ , guys," Chris said, the box open on his lap, its pink ribbon looped around his neck. He was doing everything possible to avoid actually _touching_ it, so he sat there, staring straight ahead. It was grotesque, watching them all giggle insanely, like it was actually funny. 

It wasn’t. 

A penis pump, in Chris’s so very humble opinion, was just incredibly _lame_. 

There was much girlish elbowing and jovial chortling before Joey, the dumb motherfucker, spoke for the other three supreme morons and said, "dude, it’s, like, you know what they say about little bitty feet, right, and you haven’t gotten laid in like ..." 

"A year," Lance supplied helpfully, "maybe even longer ..." 

"And dude," JC cut in, "when a lady or dude says size doesn’t matter ..." 

"They’re lying," Justin finished, grinning, "so we decided to help you out some." 

"Gee whiz," Chris said sweetly, "where would I be without you guys?" 

There was a long moment of glaring, where the four of them hee-hawed and congratulated themselves on a joke well-done and Chris just sat there, thinking for a long time about what to say and what to do and how to make them all pay for their rampant stupidity. 

Chris tapped a finger thoughtfully against his chin. So many options, so little time to decide. In the meantime, Joey snatched the pump from Chris’s lap and started narrating a mock-instructional video, occasionally taking questions whenever Lance’s arm shot into the air. 

"No, no, dude, you need a _practical_ demonstration," JC said suddenly, and for a second Chris was distracted from mentally planning his revenge. JC was just the type of guy to whip it out and show everyone just how exactly it was done, but he merely plopped the plastic cylinder against Justin’s forehead and started pumping wildly before Justin could buck him off. 

"You fucks!" Justin hollered as Joey and Lance got in on the action, holding Justin down while he wriggled violently. It looked like so much fun that Chris was tempted to drop the whole thing right there and insert himself into the melee. "Live in fear, assholes, live in fucking _fear_!" 

And Chris knew then just what he had to do. 

~~~ 

True humour, Chris thought later, was pretending you were so pissed and offended that your four best friends had spent the last two days stumbling over themselves with apologies, none of which Chris had accepted and all of which had pushed the joke that much further. 

Really, Chris had gotten over it in, like, five minutes. They were dorks; he _knew_ this already. And his cock, thank you very much, wasn’t on the small side at all but, like millions of other men, just average. Sure, he didn’t show as much as say, Justin or Joey did, and he wasn’t freakishly large like Lance and JC, but he didn’t have one of those two-inch cocks, no way. 

And for the record? Chris _had_ gotten laid in the last year. 

_Frequently_ , even, and Justin very well knew it. 

~~~ 

"Chris," Justin said, approaching him cautiously during a promo interview before their second Los Angeles show. Justin had a pink bruise in the centre of his forehead, a perfect circle that the makeup girls hadn’t quite figured out how to cover yet because Justin kept rubbing at it. 

If Chris had been talking to him, there would have been a lot of ruthless mocking, but there was a plan, and Chris intended to stick to it. He squared his shoulders then cast a sidelong looked in Justin’s direction before glancing away as he battled with his traitorous lips. They wanted to smile and give the game away, but Chris absolutely _refused_ to give in so easily. 

Justin stamped his foot impatiently. "Oh, c’mon, you stubborn fucker, we were just _kidding_." 

"Hmph," Chris said, lifting his chin, and for the full effect, he crossed his arms and pouted viciously, lower lip curled out. If Justin didn’t fuck off in, like, two seconds, Chris was going to spoil the whole ruse. His stomach cramped with the effort it took to contain himself. 

Thankfully, it worked like a charm, and Justin stomped off, pissed and swearing. 

~~~ 

The problem, Chris learned by the time half a week rolled around, was that pretending to be mad at your friends killed your social life. They were on tour for the first time in _years_ , which should have been, like, super fun, but was actually turning out to suck. He supposed he was lonely, which was so very lame, but Chris couldn’t help it. Still, he had his pride to think about. 

So it was boredom, really, that led him to actually _use_ the damned thing. 

No, _really_. 

~~~ 

They all went out and left him behind. It was his own fucking fault, and Chris knew it. When they’d asked, he’d just turned up his nose and shook his head, which left him alone in his hotel room with pay-per-view porn as his only companion. And it really wasn’t _that_ great, either. 

In fact, it was probably giving him a complex. 

Logically, Chris knew guys tended to be in porn because their dicks were huge. It was kind of in the job description, but it still depressed him to see all these guys sporting hard-ons the length of his left leg, and Chris’s left leg wasn’t even that long. Chris was just short all over. 

"There is no reason left to live," Chris told the ceiling, sprawled out on the bed as the television panted and groaned mockingly at him. Chris sighed then rolled onto his belly, groping blindly for his suitcase. When he felt the rough fabric at his fingertips, he pulled it towards him. 

There was no going back the minute he unfolded the instructions and started reading. Five minutes later, he was in the bathroom, pants around his ankles, as he used his razor to shave the hair around his dick back an inch. Briefly, he thought about just shaving the whole jungle, but the idea of having to be all sweaty and bouncy on stage with itchy balls frightened him a lot. 

"Please god," Chris said to the ceiling, "don’t let my penis fall off. I’ll be very sad." 

The porn was still on, so Chris settled back and let himself get hard, holding his dick in the loose circle of his hand and savouring the delicious feeling of _growth_. His first instinct was to whip out a ruler and measure himself, but his second one was to slid the pump over his cock. 

"Seriously," Chris said to the ceiling, "I really like my penis. Peer pressure, you know?" 

Chris held his breath and willed himself to just fucking do it already. If his cock fell off, it fell off, and it would serve him right, anyway. The tube that connecting the pumper to the acrylic cylinder swung gently to and fro, lightly bumping against his wrist as if goading him on. 

Chris squeezed his fingers around the rubber bulb once, twice, three times, and he could feel the pressure almost immediately as the air was sucked out of the chamber. It didn’t feel unpleasant at all. In fact, it felt kind of _nice_. More than nice, actually. It felt pretty fucking _great_. 

The instructions said go easy, and Chris did. _Mostly_. Chris had always had control problems when it came to his dick. Call him crazy, but he liked to stick it in things that felt good. He pumped until his cock was visibly bigger then carefully, so carefully, removed the cylinder. 

"Whoa," Chris said to himself, wondering if he was allowed to touch, terrified that if he did it would just fall off or something equally traumatic. The problem with being a famous pop star was that a thing like injury-via-kinky-sex was the type of shit that followed a guy forever. 

On the other hand, his dick was rosy and pink, and looked pretty healthy, and it he didn’t jerk off soon, then it really _was_ going to fall off. Chris curled his fingers around the shaft and then nearly passed out, because it felt so fucking _awesome_. Furiously, Chris started beating off. 

~~~ 

In the morning, his cock was still there. 

Thank god. 

~~~ 

The success of the penis pump, or rather, Chris’s enjoyment of the penis pump, threw an unexpected wrench into Chris’s master plan. His dick had actually stayed plump for a glorious two days, but he had no one to show it off to, because he still wasn’t talking to any of the guys. 

The results, of course, didn’t last forever, but Chris didn’t mind. He was, after all, perfectly average, and there was no need to mess with nature, and blah blah blah. It was, however, a perfectly dandy masturbation tool, and Chris could never, ever have enough of those. 

Chris decided that he needed to tell someone, though, so he started calling people whose numbers he had stored in his cell phone. People who a) he wasn’t related to and b) who might actually appreciate a big dick. After getting seventeen no-answers, someone _finally_ picked up. 

"Hello?" 

Chris suddenly couldn’t remember whose number he had dialled. He pulled the phone away to look at the display then frowned. Okay, probably not his best idea, but he _was_ desperate, and it wasn’t like anyone else had picked up. "Hey, Kev! How’s it hanging, dude? It’s Chris." 

There was a long pause and then, "Chris who?" 

Chris’s lips were flapping like a flock of seagulls before he could stop them. "Chris Kirkpatrick, man! I’m in that rival boyband. Oh, wait, we’re calling ourselves vocal groups now aren’t we? Anyway, I’m the short one with the enormous dick. You remember me, right?" 

"Unfortunately," Kevin said dryly. "Listen, do you actually want something?" 

"Have you ever used a penis pump ..." 

Kevin hung up before Chris could utter another word. 

~~~ 

After ten days, Chris began to worry that he’d inadvertently caused the end of his own beloved vocal group. The guys had seemingly given up trying to make amends, and Chris knew then that the joke had gone way too far. That was _always_ the fucking case when it came to him. 

Sure, his dick was marginally bigger, but it wouldn’t _stay_ bigger, and what was the point of even having a slightly larger soon-to-be-vanishing cock if he didn’t have anyone to share it with? And the group _was_ more important to him. Inches came and went, but friends were forever. 

"I suck," Chris said to anyone who would listen, but there was nobody there. 

After the show in Vegas, Chris climbed into one limo as the guys climbed into another, and he moped all the way back to the hotel. They were going to go out, and they weren’t going to ask him, and the idea of spending another night alone with just his penis pump depressed him. 

Chris was seriously contemplating a friendly hooker when someone knocked on his door. 

"Hi," Chris said when he saw Justin standing there, wearing sandals, low-riding jeans and a wife-beater. Definitely _not_ clothes for clubbing, Chris noticed idly. "You wanna come in?" 

Justin grinned. "Duh. Yes," he said, and pushed his way in. "You idiot." 

"I know," Chris said, "and dude, I’m really not mad. It was just supposed to be a joke." 

"Yeah, I figured. Took me a while, but, you know, sometimes, your brain works in mysterious ways." Justin was walking the perimeter of Chris’s room, hands behind his back, looking around. Chris wasn’t sure _why_ , but he didn’t stop him either. "The guys know, too." 

"Do I have to apologise?" Chris asked, because he didn’t want to, unless they did first. 

"Nah," Justin said. "JC did mention, though, that he thought your dick looked bigger." 

Chris was struck with a sudden wave of pride, like Justin’s offhand comment had just validated his entire existence, and the sad thing was that it pretty much _had_. It wasn’t like Chris had done much with his time in the last two weeks besides sing and try to increase his penis size. 

"You freak," Justin said, laughing. 

"I _know_ ," Chris agreed, emphatically. 

~~~ 

"I expected shit like that from them," Chris said later, sharing a plate of room-service nachos with Justin, who had paid for them, "but you," Chris poked Justin hard in the shoulder, ignoring his laughter, "know better. Haven’t gotten laid in a year? Pfft. Liar, liar, pants on fire!" 

Justin grinned. "I was under the assumption I wasn’t supposed to be bragging about that." 

"You should be telling everyone who will _listen_ how magnificent my cock is!" 

"It is pretty nice," Justin agreed, biting cleanly through a chip then happily chewing. 

"Pretty nice, the boy says! _Hmph_." Chris lifted his chin and tried his best to look indignant, even though _that_ was what he had gotten him into trouble in the first place, but Justin was in on the joke this time. Justin merely smiled that infuriatingly secret smile he often wore. 

Chris hadn’t thought recreational fucking could ever improve a relationship, and while he wasn’t sure he could say that about him and Justin (what he could say was: there really wasn’t much room for improvement when it came to them), it certainly hadn’t made anything _worse_. 

Chris couldn’t even remember when they’d started doing it, just that Justin had definitely been legal and that it hadn’t happened while Justin was with Britney. During one of their free-range break up periods in the middle of the larger scheme of their doomed romance, yes, but never when they were formally together. A couple years, Chris figured. It was very low drama. 

"If we hurt your feelings, we’re sorry," Justin said quietly. 

"Eh, I’m over it," Chris said, and he really was. 

~~~ 

They watched some bad porn together, and Chris let Justin rub his shoulders until Chris was pliant and boneless and totally at his mercy. Usually, Chris couldn’t stand people putting their hands all over him without, like, giving him a handjob or something, but Justin was okay. 

"Did you really use it?" 

"Hey," Chris said defensively, "it’s good for jerking off, okay? Makes everything more sensitive and shit. Like you know when you’re so hard you think your dick is gonna burst and you finally get some friction and it’s like whoa? You get there with half the effort using a pump." 

Justin hooked his chin over Chris’s shoulder and went "hmm" warmly in his ear. 

"Then get naked already," Chris replied, slapping Justin on the knee. Chris kneeled and took off his shirt, tossing it into the corner of the room. He and Justin tended to get a little athletic when they fucked, and they were notorious for tripping over shit and hurting themselves. 

Justin wriggled out of his jeans then peeled off his tank top, throwing them in the general direction of Chris’s stuff. Wouldn’t it figure, Chris’s zipper got stuck on his boxers, but with a little help from Justin and a lot of impatient grunts, Chris was finally free from his stupid jeans. 

"Into the bathroom," Chris said, grabbing Justin by the wrist and pulling him along, slapping at his hip when Justin took one look at the razor and began to vehemently shake his head. "You big wimp, get up there. It just works better if you’re trimmed a little. Look at me." 

"I thought something looked different," Justin said, laughing as Chris physically lifted him onto the counter, spreading his legs. His dick looked good enough to swallow down in one gulp. "You probably look bigger because you weed-whacked that overgrown mess of yours." 

"Better stop talking, or I might accidentally snip it off," Chris said, snapping the scissors. 

It was quick enough work to trim then shave around Justin’s cock. Harder to ignore the merry bob and bounce of Justin’s dick, but Chris managed that, too. When Chris stood up, his knees cracked loudly and then Justin’s mouth was on his. They made out for a long, _long_ time. 

"Next time your joke goes horribly awry," Justin said, fingers fluttering against the bob of Chris’s throat as he struggled to get his breath back, "swallow your pride and tell us, okay?" 

"Will do," Chris promised, and pulled Justin off the counter and back into the bedroom. 

~~~ 

There was no better look for Justin than naked and spread out on Chris’s bed. Someday, Chris was going to suggest they get together, like formally and shit, just so this look would be a bit more common. But until then, Chris was going to take what he could get, which was _this_. 

"This isn’t gonna cause ... _damage_ , is it? Like _nerve_ damage," Justin added nervously. 

"Nah. If we overdo it, you might bruise a little, but that’s nothing you won’t get over." Chris pressed his thumb to the centre of Justin’s forehead where Justin’s circular bruise had been. Though it had vanished over a week ago, just the thought of it still made Chris impossibly hard. 

"Are you sure ..." 

"Shut _up_ ," Chris said, glaring, and Justin snapped his jaw together. 

Chris hummed as he stroked Justin’s cock, using the pads of his fingertips and nothing more. Justin’s hips undulated under Chris’s soft touch. Chris rolled his eyes, and didn’t stop, just kept moving up and down Justin’s shaft until he was fully hard, his belly quivering. 

"You are so damn easy," Chris muttered, grinning when Justin huffed indignantly, then reached for the pump. It suddenly seemed bizarre that he was doing this with Justin, but as Chris always said: don’t pump without friends. Or at least, he _would_ that say in the future, a lot. 

Chris slipped the cylinder over Justin’s cock, holding it securely at the base of his dick, then took the bulb in his other hand and began to pump. Justin bucked up once then muttered, "sorry, sorry," and it was a visible struggle for him to stay still after that. Chris didn’t blame him. 

"This is so weird," Justin murmured, his toes curling helplessly, his face all scrunched up. 

"Good, though?" 

"Very good," Justin assured him, lifting his arms to grab hold of the headboard, which wobbled and groaned under the sudden pressure. If they got fined for ripping it off the hotel wall, Justin was paying for it. Rumours about wild sex romps were nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

Chris watched Justin’s face for flickers of pain or discomfort, occasionally distracted by the way Justin sucked his lower lip between his teeth or the way his eyes slanted shut whenever he moaned. Justin’s dick was a bright vibrant pink, and much bigger than Chris had ever seen it. 

And he had seen it a lot in recent years, thanks to fucking like maniacs and whatnot. 

Eventually, though, Justin had enough, and Chris removed the pump, letting the air whoosh back into the chamber and ignoring Justin when he groaned and said, "no, don’t, more." Instead, Chris slid up between Justin’s spread legs and pressed him, tight, into the dip of his hip. 

"Move against me," Chris said quietly, mouth right up against Justin’s ear. Justin started grinding against him, his dick feverishly hot and impossibly hard. Chris kissed Justin’s open mouth, urging him onwards with one hand on his sweat-damp skin, until Justin came with a cry. 

And after all that, the motherfucker was _still_ hard. 

~~~ 

"I can’t help myself, man. You’re just so fucking sexy," Justin said when he’d gotten his bearings back and taken the required mocking for the state of his cock. Chris didn’t care that Justin meant it incredibly facetiously. He was taking it for face value. He _was_ fucking sexy, thanks. 

It was Chris’s turn, and Justin knew it. Chris tried to lie still as Justin took his sweet ass time kissing and licking all over his favourite Chris-parts, and he had a lot of them. It was torture for Chris, which was why Justin did it and why Chris loved it so much. Justin did _great_ work. 

"You in the mood to be fucked?" Justin asked, sucking on Chris’s ear. Chris _loved_ that. 

Chris shrugged. "Hey, sure. Got nothing better lined up." 

"Funny," Justin said then kissed him, slicking his tongue into Chris’s mouth. 

Chris loved _that_ , too. 

Justin finger-fucked him for a bit, because he was a gentleman and Chris was the wimpy sort of bottom who needed, like, twenty minutes of warm-up time. Justin never seemed to mind, though, and he was so talented with his fingers that Chris felt the need to tell him that, often. 

"God," Chris muttered as Justin drove deeper and deeper into him, using two fingers crooked at just the right angle. Chris may have spent the last decade mocking Justin for his reading material, but the kid _had_ learned shit. "You are, like, the supreme master of fingering." 

Justin laughed then screwed his fingers in again "Please, tell me more." 

Chris babbled inanely about Justin’s mad skills, pushing up to meet Justin’s fingers, and it was maddening that Justin hadn’t even _touched_ Chris’s cock, absolutely infuriating. The thing about Justin was that he always had a plan. When he pulled Chris to his wobbly legs, Chris got it. 

~~~ 

"Can I try the pump on you?" Justin asked, his mouth moving against the curve of Chris’s ear, and Chris groaned in frustration. He wanted to tell Justin to just make up his damn mind already, but he didn’t want to risk pissing Justin off, and well, anything Justin did _would_ feel good. It was just that Chris had actually been looking forward to being fucked over the couch. 

"Yes, sure, fine. Just fucking do something already please," Chris said testily, trying to rub his dick against the fabric on the sofa, not caring how filthy it probably was. Chris didn’t care about anything, but his poor neglected dick that Justin simply didn’t seem to respect enough. 

Chris dug his fingers into the back of the couch, tapping his toes and waiting impatiently. When Justin came back, he fit himself tightly against Chris’s back, his cock slipping between Chris’s ass cheeks. A knee nudged between Chris’s thighs, and god, the fucking _mind-games_. 

"What the fuck," Chris said then stopped as Justin drove into him with one quick thrust. For a second, Chris thought his knees were going to give out, because fucking _wow_ , but then Justin dug one hand into Chris’s hip, and with the other, slipped the penis pump onto his dick. 

"I don’t have enough hands," Justin murmured, "so you gotta do the pumping, okay?" 

This was what Chris meant about athletic sex. Some days, Chris thought he was too fucking _old_ to be having sex with Justin, but other days Chris was more than willing to die for the pleasure. That wacky Justin, always thinking with his head. He was _full_ of good ideas. 

Chris thought it should have been absurd, being sandwiched between Justin and a penis pump, but it was nothing like that. Sure, if there were hidden cameras in the room, it would look pretty fucking weird, but the impossible pressure on his dick, dragging every ounce of blood into one very, well, small (compared to his arms and legs) appendage, the incredible slide of Justin’s cock deep into his ass, well, Chris didn’t care if there were pictures or not. It was _that_ awesome. 

Chris pumped and pumped until his concentration was shattered completely by the most perfect thrust (hitting Chris _right there_ , right _fucking_ there) in the universe. Vaguely, he was aware of the pump dropping and hitting him on the toes, but the pain was erased by the _pleasure_. 

"Oh god, oh god," Chris moaned, Justin’s hand replacing the pump, and _that_ was fucking intense. It was bordering on agony, his cock was so sensitive, but Chris was too far gone to care. He spread his legs wider, pushed back on Justin harder and crumpled forward, nearly bent in two. 

There was nothing to grab, and every thrust practically lifted Chris’s feet off the carpet. Justin kept one arm around Chris’s belly, holding him up, and the other working feverishly at Chris’s aching dick, a tight vise of torture that, if it didn’t do its job soon, Chris would die from. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Chris chanted, sweat dripping off his forehead, stinging his eyes. Justin panted like an overworked racehorse in his ear, gasping for breath, and _finally_ , Chris felt his balls tighten the second before he came so hard that he nearly bucked Justin right off him. 

~~~ 

Later, after they’d both taken showers and put the couch back where it had started before the sex, Justin invited Chris back to his own room. "Because dude," Justin said, nose wrinkled disdainfully, "I love you too much to let you sleep in that wet spot. You’d fucking drown." 

They limped down the hall to Justin’s room then collapsed into a knot on Justin’s bed. Chris’s heart was still racing, and he put his palm over it, willing it to calm down. He’d never live it down with his mom if he had a heart attack at age thirty-four due to hot sex with Justin. 

"Shit, I can’t believe I used a penis pump," Justin said suddenly. 

"You should have known if you gave me something that involved me sticking my dick in it, joke or not, I would do it." Every muscle in Chris’s body ached, and he was so hungry that his stomach growled like a rabid dog. He rolled over and grabbed the room service menu. "Food?" 

"Yes, please. You paying?" 

"No, it’s your room. And besides, you owe me. Hurt feelings, and all that." 

"Mother _fucker_ ," Justin said. 

Chris grinned.


End file.
